"I never had a pet. Everything in his favour—the luck of the gods! The only white men were miles down the coast. ” “It is odd that this man at the hospital should call himself Meysey Hill,” she remarked. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. It was red and chapped. " "What gives you that idea?" "Well, we could find no letter of credit, no letters, no labels in his clothes—not a single clew to his real identity. " "Have you seen him?" asked Trenchard.
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